213 I turned the car north, accelerating now that I had a purpose. Whenever I had a problem that was beyond me—something tangible like this—I knew where I could go for help. Alice was sitting on the porch, waiting for me. I pulled to a stop in front of the house rather than going around to the garage. “Carlisle’s in his study,” Alice told me before I could ask. “Thank you,” I said, tousling her hair as I passed. Thank you for returning my call, she thought sarcastically. “Oh.” I paused by the door, pulling out my phone and flipping it open. “Sorry. I didn’t even check to see who it was. I was…busy.” “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, too. By the time I saw what was going to happen, you were on your way.” “It was close,” I murmured. Sorry, she repeated, ashamed of herself. It was easy to be generous, knowing that Bella was fine. “Don’t be. I know you can’t catch everything. No one expects you to be omniscient, Alice.” “Thanks.” “I almost asked you out to dinner tonight—did you catch that before I changed my mind?” She grinned. “No, I missed that one, too. Wish I’d known. I would have come.” “What were you concentrating on, that you missed so much?” Jasper’s thinking about our anniversary. She laughed. He’s trying not to make a decision on my gift, but I think I have a pretty good idea… “You’re shameless.” “Yep.” She pursed her lips, and stared up at me, a hint of accusation in her expression. I paid better attention later. Are you going to tell th em that she knows? I sighed. “Yes. Later.” I won’t say anything. Do me a favor and tell Rosalie when I’m not around, okay? I flinched. “Sure.” Bella took it pretty well. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 214 “Too well.” Alice grinned at me. Don’t underestimate Bella. I tried to block the image I didn’t want to see—Bella and Alice, best of friends. Impatient now, I sighed heavily. I wanted to be through with the next part of the evening; I wanted it over with. But I was a little worried to leave Forks… “Alice…” I began. She saw what I was planning to ask. She’ll be fine tonight. I’m keeping a better watch now. She sort of needs twenty four hour supervision, doesn’ t she? “At least.” “Anyway, you’ll be with her soon enough.” I took a deep breath. The words were beautiful to me. “Go on—get this done so you can be where you want to be,” she told me. I nodded, and hurried up to Carlisle’s room. He was waiting for me, his eyes on the door rather than the thick book on his desk. “I heard Alice tell you where to find me,” he said, and smiled. It was a relief to be with him, to see the empathy and deep intelligence in his eyes. Carlisle would know what to do. “I need help.” “Anything, Edward,” he promised. “Did Alice tell you what happened to Bella tonight?” Almost happened, he amended. “Yes, almost. I’ve got a dilemma, Carlisle. You see, I want…very much…to kill him.” The words started to flow fast and passionate. “So much. But I know that would be wrong, because it would be vengeance, not justice. All anger, no impartiality. Still, it can’t be right to leave a serial rapist and killer wandering Port Angeles! I don’t know the humans there, but I can’t let someone else take Bella’s place as his victim. Those other women—someone might feel about them the way I feel about Bella. Might suffer what I would have suffered if she’d been harmed. It’s not right—” His wide, unexpected smile stopped the rush of my words cold. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 215 She’s very good for you, isn’t she? So much compassion, so much control. I’m impressed. “I’m not looking for compliments, Carlisle.” “Of course not. But I can’t help my thoughts, can I?” He smiled again. “I’ll take care of it. You can rest easy. No one else will be harmed in Bella’s place.” I saw the plan in his head. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, it did not satisfy my craving for brutality, but I could see that it was the right thing. “I’ll show you where to find him,” I said. “Let’s go.” He grabbed his black bag on the way. I would have preferred a more aggressive form of sedation—like a cracked skull—but I would let Carlisle do this his way. We took my car. Alice was still on the steps. She grinned and waved as we drove away. I saw that she had looked ahead for me; we would have no difficulties. The trip was very short on the dark, empty road. I left off my headlights to keep from attracting attention. It made me smile to think how Bella would have reacted to this pace. I’d already been driving slower than usual—to prolong my time with her—when she’d objected. Carlisle was thinking of Bella, too. I didn’tforesee that she would be so good for him. That’s unexpected. Perhaps this was somehow meant to be. Perhaps it serves a higher purpose. Only… He pictured Bella with snow cold skin and blood red eyes, and then flinched away from the image. Yes. Only. Indeed. Because how could there be any good in destroying something so pure and lovely? I glowered into the night, all the joy of the evening destroyed by his thoughts. Edward deserves happiness. He’s owed it. The fierceness of Carlisle’s thoughts surprised me. There must be a way. I wished I could believe that—either one. But there was no higher purpose to what was happening to Bella. Just a vicious harpy, an ugly, bitter fate who could not bear for Bella to have the life she deserved. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 216 I did not linger in Port Angeles. I took Carlisle to the dive where the creature named Lonnie was drowning his disappointment with his friends—two of whom had already passed out. Carlisle could see how hard it was for me to be so close—for me to hear the monster’s thoughts and see his memories, memories of Bella mixed in with less fortunate girls who no one could save now. My breathing sped. I clenched the steering wheel. Go, Edward, he told me gently. I’ll make the rest of them safe. You go back to Bella. It was exactly the right thing to say. Her name was the only distraction that could mean anything to me now. I left him in the car, and ran back to Forks in a straight line through the sleeping forest. It took less time than the first journey in the speeding car. It was just minutes later that I scaled the side of her house and slid her window out of my way. I sighed silently with relief. Everything was just as it should be. Bella was safe in her bed, dreaming, her wet hair tangled like seaweed across the pillow. But, unlike most nights, she was curled into a small ball with the covers stretched taut around her shoulders. Cold, I guessed. Before I could settle into my usual seat, she shivered in her sleep, and her lips trembled. I thought for a brief moment, and then I eased out into the hallway, exploring another part of her house for the first time. Charlie’s snores were loud and even. I could almost catch the edge of his dream. Something with the rush of water and patient expectation…fishing, maybe? There, at the top of the stairs, was a promising looking cupboard. I opened it hopefully, and found what I was looking for. I selected the thickest blanket from the tiny linen closet, and took it back into her room. I would return it before she woke, and no one would be the wiser. Holding my breath, I cautiously spread the blanket over her; she didn’t react to the added weight. I returned to the rocking chair. While I waited anxiously for her to warm up, I thought of Carlisle, wondering where he was now. I knew his plan would go smoothly—Alice had seen that. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 217 Thinking of my father made me sigh—Carlisle gave me too much credit. I wished I was the person he thought me to be. That person, the one who deserved happiness, might hope to be worthy of this sleeping girl. How different things would be if I could be that Edward. As I pondered this, a strange, uncalled image filled my head. For one moment, the hagfaced fate I’d imagined, the one who sought Bella’s destruction, was replaced by the most foolish and reckless of angels. A guardian angel— something Carlisle’s version of me might have had. With a heedless smile on her lips, her skycolored eyes full of mischief, the angel formed Bella in such a fashion that there was no way that I could possibly overlook her. A ridiculously potent scent to demand my attention, a silent mind to enflame my curiosity, a quiet beauty to hold my eyes, a selfless soul to earn my awe. Leave out the natural sense of selfpreservation—so that Bella could bear to be near me—and, finally, add a wide streak of appallingly bad luck. With a careless laugh, the irresponsible angel propelled her fragile creation directly into my path, trusting blithely in my flawed morality to keep Bella alive. In this vision, I was not Bella’s sentence; she was my reward. I shook my head at the fantasy of the unthinking angel. She was not much better than the harpy. I could not think well of a higher power that would behave in such a dangerous and stupid manner. At least the ugly fate I could fight against. And I had no angel. They were reserved for the good—for people like Bella. So where was her angel through all this? Who was watching over her? I laughed silently, startled, as I realized that, just now, I was filling that role. A vampire angel—there was a stretch. After about a half hour, Bella relaxed out of the tight ball. Her breathing got deeper and she started to murmur. I smiled, satisfied. It was a small thing, but at least she was sleeping more comfortably tonight because I was here. “Edward,” she sighed, and she smiled, too. I shoved tragedy aside for the moment, and let myself be happy again. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 218 11. Interrogations CNN broke the story first. I was glad it hit the news before I had to leave for school, anxious to hear how the humans would phrase the account, and what amount of attention it would garner. Luckily, it was a heavy news day. There was an earthquake in South America and a political kidnapping in the Middle East. So it ended up only earning a few seconds, a few sentences, and one grainy picture. “Alonzo Calderas Wallace, suspected serial rapist and murderer wanted in the states of Texas and Oklahoma, was apprehended last night in Portland, Oregon thanks to an anonymous tip. Wallace was found unconscious in an alley early this morning, just a few yards from a police station. Officials are unable to tell us at this time whether he will be extradited to Houston or Oklahoma City to stand trial.” The picture was unclear, a mug shot, and he’d had a thick beard at the time of the photograph. Even if Bella saw it, she would probably not recognize him. I hoped she wouldn’t; it would make her afraid needlessly. “The coverage here in town will be light. It’s too far away to be considered of local interest,” Alice told me. “It was a good call to have Carlisle take him out of state.” I nodded. Bella didn’t watch much TV regardless, and I’d never seen her father watching anything besides sports channels. I’d done what I could. This monster no longer hunted, and I was not a murderer. Not recently, anyway. I’d been right to trust Carlisle, as much as I still wished the monster had not gotten off quite so easily. I caught myself hoping he would be extradited to Texas, where the death penalty was so popular… No. That didn’t matter. I would put this behind me, and concentrate on what was most important. I’d left Bella’s room less than an hour ago. I was already aching to see her again. “Alice, do you mind—” She cut me off. “Rosalie will drive. She’ll act pissed, but you know she’ll enjoy the excuse to show off her car.” Alice trilled a laugh. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 219 I grinned at her. “See you at school.” Alice sighed, and my grin became a grimace. I know, I know, she thought. Not yet. I’ll wait until you’re ready for Bella to know me. You should know, though, this isn’t just me being selfish. Bella’s going to like me, too. I didn’t answer her as I hurried out the door. That was a different way of viewing the situation. Would Bella want to know Alice? To have a vampire for a girlfriend? Knowing Bella…that idea probably wouldn’t bother her in the slightest. I frowned to myself. What Bella wanted and what was best for Bella were two very separate things. I started to feel uneasy as I parked my car in Bella’s driveway. The human adage said that things looked different in the morning—that things changed when you slept on them. Would I look different to Bella in the weak light of a foggy day? More sinister or less sinister than I had in the blackness of night? Had the truth sunk in while she slept? Would she finally be afraid? Her dreams had been peaceful, though, last night. When she’d spoken my name, time and time again, she’d smiled. More than once she’d murmured a plea for me to stay. Would that mean nothing today? I waited nervously, listening to the sounds of her inside the house—the fast, stumbling footsteps on the stairs, the sharp rip of a foil wrapper, the contents of the refrigerator crashing against each other when the door slammed. It sounded like she was in a hurry. Anxious to get to school? The thought made me smile, hopeful again. I looked at the clock. I supposed that—taking in account the velocity her decrepit truck must limit her to—she was running a little late. Bella rushed out of the house, her book bag sliding off her shoulder, her hair coiled into a messy twist that was already coming apart on the nape of her neck. The thick green sweater she wore was not enough to keep her thin shoulders from hunching against the cold fog. The long sweater was too big for her, unflattering. It masked her slender figure, turning all her delicate curves and soft lines into a shapeless jumble. I appreciated this almost as much as I wished that she had worn something more like the soft blue blouse （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 220 she’d worn last night…the fabric had clung to her skin in such an appealing way, cut low enough to reveal the mesmerizing way her collar bones curled away from the hollow beneath her throat. The blue had flowed like water along the subtle shape of her body… It was better—essential—that I kept my thoughts far, far away from that shape, so I was grateful to the unbecoming sweater she wore. I couldn’t afford to make mistakes, and it would be a monumental mistake to dwell on the strange hungers that thoughts of her lips…her skin…her body…were shaking loose inside of me. Hungers that had evaded me for a hundred years. But I could not allow myself to think of touching her, because that was impossible. I would break her. Bella turned away from the door, in such a hurry that she nearly ran right by my car without noticing it. Then she skidded to a stop, her knees locking like a startled colt’s. Her bag slid further down her arm, and her eyes flew wide as they focused on the car. I got out, taking no care to move at human speed, and opened the passenger door for her. I would not try to deceive her anymore—when we were alone, at least, I would be myself. She looked up at me, startled again as I seemingly materialized out of the fog. And then the surprise in her eyes changed to something else, and I was no longer afraid— or hopeful—that her feelings for me had changed in the course of the night. Warmth, wonder, fascination, all swimming in the melted chocolate of her eyes. “Do you want to ride with me today?” I asked. Unlike dinner last night, I would let her choose. From now on, it must always be her choice. “Yes, thank you,” she murmured, climbing into my car without hesitation. Would it ever cease to thrill me, that I was the one she was saying yes to? I doubted it. I flashed around the car, eager to join her. She showed no sign of being shocked by my sudden reappearance. The happiness I felt when she sat beside me this way had no precedent. As much as I enjoyed the love and companionship of my family, despite the various entertainments and distractions the world had to offer, I had never been happy like this. Even knowing （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 221 that it was wrong, that this couldn’t possibly end well, could not keep the smile from my face for long. My jacket was folded over the headrest of her seat. I saw her eyeing it. “I brought the jacket for you,” I told her. This was my excuse, had I needed to provide one, for showing up uninvited this morning. It was cold. She had no jacket. Surely this was an acceptable form of chivalry. “I didn’t want you to get sick or something.” “I’m not quite that delicate,” she said, staring at my chest rather than my face, as if she were hesitant to meet my eyes. But she put the coat on before I had to resort to commanding or coaxing. “Aren’t you?” I muttered to myself. She stared out at the road as I accelerated toward the school. I could only stand the silence for a few seconds. I had to know what her thoughts were this morning. So much had changed between us since the last time the sun was up. “What, no twenty questions today?” I asked, keeping it light again. She smiled, seeming glad that I’d broached the subject. “Do my questions bother you?” “Not as much as your reactions do,” I told her honestly, smiling in response to her smile. Her mouth turned down. “Do I react badly?” “No, that’s the problem. You take everything so coolly—it’s unnatural.” Not one scream so far. How could that be? “It makes me wonder what you’re really thinking.” Of course, everything she did or didn’t do made me wonder that. “I always tell you what I’m really thinking.” “You edit.” Her teeth pressed into her lip again. She didn’t seem to notice when she did this—it was an unconscious response to tension. “Not very much.” Just those words were enough to have my curiosity raging. What did she purposefully keep from me? “Enough to drive me insane,” I said. She hesitated, and then whispered, “You don’t want to hear it.” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 222 I had to think for a moment, run through our entire conversation last night, word for word, before I made the connection. Perhaps it took so much concentration because I couldn’t imagine anything that I wouldn’t want her to say to me. And then—because the tone of her voice was the same as last night; there was suddenly pain there again—I remembered. Once, I had asked her not to speak her thoughts. Never say that, I’d all but snarled at her. I had made her cry… Was this what she kept from me? The depth of her feelings about me? That my being a monster didn’t matter to her, and that she thought it was too late for her to change her mind? I was unable to speak, because the joy and pain were too strong for words, the conflict between them too wild to allow for a coherent response. It was silent in the car except for the steady rhythms of her heart and lungs. “Where’s the rest of your family?” she asked suddenly. I took a deep breath—registering the scent in the car with true pain for the first time; I was getting used to this, I realized with satisfaction—and forced myself to be casual again. “They took Rosalie’s car.” I parked in the open spot next to the car in question. I hid my smile as I watched her eyes widen. “Ostentatious, isn’t it?” “Um, wow. If she has that, why does she ride with you?” Rosalie would have enjoyed Bella’s reaction…if she were being objective about Bella, which probably wouldn’t happen. “Like I said, it’s ostentatious. We try to blend in.” “You don’t succeed,” she told me, and then she laughed a carefree laugh. The blithe, wholly untroubled sound of her laughter warmed my hollow chest even as it made my head swim with doubt. “So why did Rosalie drive today if it’s more conspicuous?” she wondered. “Hadn’t you noticed? I’m breaking all the rules now.” My answer should have been mildly frightening—so, of course, Bella smiled at it. She didn’t wait for me to open her door, just like last night. I had to feign normality here at school—so I couldn’t move fast enough to prevent this—but she was just going to have to get used to being treated with more courtesy, and get used to it soon. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 223 I walked as close to her as I dared, watching carefully for any sign that my proximity upset her. Twice her hand twitched toward me and then she would snatch it back. It looked like she wanted to touch me… My breath sped. “Why do you have cars like that at all? If you’re looking for privacy?” she asked as we walked. “An indulgence,” I admitted. “We all like to drive fast.” “Figures,” she mumbled, her tone sour. She didn’t look up to see my answering grin. Nuhuh! I don’t believe this! How the hell did Bella pull this off? I don’t get it! Why? Jessica’s mental boggling interrupted my thoughts. She was waiting for Bella, taking refuge from the rain under the edge of the cafeteria’s roof, with Bella’s winter jacket over her arm. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. Bella noticed her, too, in the next moment. A faint pink touched her cheek when Bella registered Jessica’s expression. The thoughts in Jessica’s head were fairly clear on her face. “Hey, Jessica. Thanks for remembering,” Bella greeted her. She reached out for the jacket and Jessica handed it to her wordlessly. I should be polite to Bella’s friends, whether they were good friends or not. “Good morning, Jessica.” Whoa… Jessica’s eyes popped even wider. It was strange and amusing…and, honestly, a bit embarrassing…to realize how much being near Bella had softened me. It seemed like no one was afraid of me any more. If Emmett found out about this, he would be laughing for the next century. “Er…hi,” Jessica mumbled, and her eyes flashed to Bella’s face, full of significance. “I guess I’ll see you in Trig.” You are so going to spill. I’m not taking no for an answer. Details. I have to have details! Edward freaking CULLEN!! Life is so unfair. Bella’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 224 Jessica’s thoughts ran wild as she hurried to her first class, peeking back at us now and then. The whole story. I’m not accepting anything less. Did they plan to meet up last night? Are they dating? How long? How could she keep this a secret? Why would she want to? It can’t be a casual thing—she has to be seriously into him. Is there any other option? I will find out. I can’t stand not knowing. I wonder if she’s made out with him? Oh, swoon… Jessica’s thoughts were suddenly disjointed, and she let wordless fantasies swirl through her head. I winced at her speculations, and not just because she’d replaced Bella with herself in the mental pictures. It couldn’t be like that. And yet I…I wanted… I resisted making the admission, even to myself. How many wrong ways would I want Bella in? Which one would end up killing her? I shook my head, and tried to lighten up. “What are you going to tell her?” I asked Bella. “Hey!” she whispered fiercely. “I thought you couldn’t read my mind!” “I can’t.” I stared at her, surprised, trying to make sense of her words. Ah—we must have been thinking the same thing at the same time. Hmm…I rather liked that. “However,” I told her, “I can read hers—she’ll be waiting to ambush you in class.” Bella groaned, and then let the jacket slide off her shoulders. I didn’t realize that she was giving it back at first—I wouldn’t have asked for it; I would rather she kept it…a token—so I was too slow to offer her my help. She handed me the jacket, and put her arms through her own, without looking up to see that my hands were extended to assist. I frowned at that, and then controlled my expression before she noticed it. “So, what are you going to tell her?” I pressed. “A little help? What does she want to know?” I smiled, and shook my head. I wanted to hear what she was thinking without a prompt. “That’s not fair.” Her eyes tightened. “No, you not sharing what you know—now that’s unfair.” Right—she didn’t like double standards. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 225 We got to the door of her class—where I would have to leave her; I wondered idly if Ms. Cope would be more accommodating about a switch in the schedule of my English class… I made myself focus. I could be fair. “She wants to know if we’re secretly dating,” I said slowly. “And she wants to know how you feel about me.” Her eyes were wide—not startled, but ingenious now. They were open to me, readable. She was playing innocent. “Yikes,” she murmured. “What should I say?” “Hmmm.” She always tried to make me give away more than she did. I pondered how to respond. A wayward strand of her hair, slightly damp from the fog, draped across her shoulder and curled around where her collar bone was hidden by the ridiculous sweater. It drew my eyes…pulled them across the other hidden lines… I reached for it carefully, not touching her skin—the morning was chill enough without my touch—and twisted it back into place in her untidy bun so that it wouldn’t distract me again. I remembered when Mike Newton had touched her hair, and my jaw flexed at the memory. She had flinched away from him then. Her reaction now was nothing the same; instead, there was a slight widening of her eyes, a rush of blood under her skin, and a sudden, uneven thumping of her heart. I tried to hide my smile as I answered her question. “I suppose you could say yes to the first…if you don’t mind—，” her choice, always her choice, “—it’s easier than any other explanation.” “I don’t mind,” she whispered. Her heart had not found its normal rhythm yet. “And as for her other question…” I couldn’t hide my smile now. “Well, I’ll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself.” Let Bella consider that. I held back my laugh as shock crossed her face. I turned quickly, before she could ask for any more answers. I had a difficult time not giving her whatever she asked for. And I wanted to hear her thoughts, not mine. “I’ll see you at lunch,” I called back to her over my shoulder, an excuse to check that she was still staring after me, wideeyed. Her mouth was hanging open. I turned away again, and laughed. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 226 As I paced away, I was vaguely aware of the shocked and speculative thoughts that swirled around me—eyes bouncing back and forth between Bella’s face and my retreating figure. I paid them little attention. I couldn’t concentrate. It was hard enough to keep my feet moving at an acceptable speed as I crossed the soggy grass to my next class. I wanted to run—really run, so fast that I would disappear, so fast that it would feel like I was flying. Part of me was flying already. I put the jacket on when I got to class, letting her fragrance swim thick around me. I would burn now—let the scent desensitize me—and then it would be easier to ignore it later, when I was with her again at lunch… It was a good thing that my teachers no longer bothered to call on me. Today might have been the day that they would have caught me out, unprepared and answerless. My mind was in so many places this morning; only my body was in the classroom. Of course I was watching Bella. That was becoming natural—as automatic as breathing. I heard her conversation with a demoralized Mike Newton. She quickly directed the conversation to Jessica, and I grinned so wide that Rob Sawyer, who sat at the desk to my right, flinched visibly and slid deeper into his seat, away from me. Ugh. Creepy. Well, I hadn’t lost it entirely. I was also monitoring Jessica loosely, watching her refine her questions for Bella. I could barely wait for fourth period, ten times as eager and anxious as the curious human girl who wanted fresh gossip. And I was also listening to Angela Weber. I had not forgotten the gratitude I felt to her—for thinking nothing but kind things toward Bella in the first place, and then for her help last night. So I waited through the morning, looking for something that she wanted. I assumed it would be an easy; like any other human, there must be some bauble or toy she wanted particularly. Several, probably. I would deliver something anonymously and call us even. But Angela proved almost as unaccommodating as Bella with her thoughts. She was oddly content for a teenager. Happy. Perhaps this was the reason for her unusual kindness—she was one of those rare people who had what they wanted and wanted what they had. If she wasn’t paying attention to her teachers and her notes, she was thinking （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 227 of the twin little brothers she was taking to the beach this weekend—anticipating their excitement with an almost maternal pleasure. She cared for them often, but was not resentful of this fact… It was very sweet. But not really helpful to me. There had to be something she wanted. I would just have to keep looking. But later. It was time for Bella’s trig class with Jessica. I wasn’t watching where I was going as I made my way to English. Jessica was already in her seat, both her feet tapping impatiently against the floor as she waited for Bella to arrive. Conversely, once I settled into my assigned seat in the classroom, I became utterly still. I had to remind myself to fidget now and then. To keep up the charade. It was difficult, my thoughts were so focused on Jessica’s. I hoped she would pay attention, really try to read Bella’s face for me. Jessica’s tapping intensified when Bella walked into the room. She looks…glum. Why? Maybe there’s nothing going on with Edward Cullen. That would be a disappointment. Except…then he’s still available… If he’s suddenly interested in dating, I don’t mind helping out with that… Bella’s face didn’t look glum, it looked reluctant. She was worried—she knew I would hear all of this. I smiled to myself. “Tell me everything!” Jess demanded while Bella was still removing her jacket to hang it on the back of her seat. She was moving with deliberation, unwilling. Ugh, she’s so slow. Let’s get to the juicy stuff! “What do you want to know?” Bella stalled as she took her seat. “What happened last night?” “He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home.” And then? C’mon, there has to be more than that! She’s lying anyway, I know that. I’m going to call her on it. “How did you get home so fast?” I watched Bella roll her eyes at the suspicious Jessica. “He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying.” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 228 She smiled a tiny smile, and I laughed out loud, interrupting Mr. Mason’s announcements. I tried to turn the laugh into a cough, but no one was fooled. Mr. Mason shot me an irritated look, but I didn’t even bother to listen to the thought behind it. I was hearing Jessica. Huh. She sounds like she’s telling the truth. Why is she making me pull this out of her, word by word? I would be bragging at the top of my lungs if it were me. “Was it like a date—did you tell him to meet you there?” Jessica watched surprise cross Bella’s expression, and was disappointed at how genuine it seemed. “No—I was very surprised to see him there,” Bella told her. What is going on?? “But he picked you up for school today?” There has to be more to the story. “Yes—that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn’t have a jacket last night.” That’s not very much fun, Jessica thought, disappointed again. I was tired of her line of questioning—I wanted to hear something I didn’t already know. I hoped she wasn’t so dissatisfied that she would skip the questions I was waiting for. “So are you going out again?” Jessica demanded. “He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks my truck isn’t up to it—does that count?” Hmm. He sure is going out of his way to…well, take care of her, sort of. There must be something there on his side, if not on hers. How could THAT be? Bella’s crazy. “Yes,” Jessica answered Bella’s question. “Well, then,”Bella concluded. “Yes.” “Wow…Edward Cullen.” Whether she likes him or not, this is major. “I know,” Bella sighed. The tone of her voice encouraged Jessica. Finally—she sounds like she gets it! She must realize… “Wait!”Jessica said, suddenly remembering her most vital question. “Has he kissed you?” Please say yes. And then describe every second! （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 229 “No,” Bella mumbled, and then she looked down at her hands, her face falling. “It’s not like that.” Damn. I wish… Ha. Looks like she does to. I frowned. Bella did look upset about something, but it couldn’t be disappointment like Jessica assumed. She couldn’t want that. Not knowing what she knew. She couldn’t want to be that close to my teeth. For all she knew, I had fangs. I shuddered. “Do you think Saturday…？” Jessica prodded. Bella looked even more frustrated as she said, “I really doubt it.” Yeah, she does wish. That sucks for her. Was it because I was watching all this through the filter of Jessica’s perceptions that it seemed like Jessica was right? For a halfsecond I was distracted by the idea, the impossibility, of what it would be like to try to kiss her. My lips to her lips, cold stone to warm, yielding silk… And then she dies. I shook my head, wincing, and made myself pay attention. “What did you talk about?” Did you talk to him, or did you make him drag every ounce of information out of you like this? I smiled ruefully. Jessica wasn’t far off. “I don’t know, Jess, lots of stuff. We talked about the English essay a little.” A very little. I smiled wider. Oh, c’MON. “Please, Bella! Give me some details.” Bella deliberated for a moment. “Well…okay, I’ve got one. You should have seen the waitress flirting with him— it was over the top. But he didn’t pay any attention to her at all.” What a strange detail to share. I was surprised Bella had even noticed. It seemed a very inconsequential thing. Interesting… “That’s a good sign. Was she pretty?” Hmm. Jessica thought more of it that I did. Must be a female thing. “Very,”Bella told her. “And probably nineteen or twenty.” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer 230 Jessica was momentarily distracted by a memory of Mike on her date Monday night—Mike being a little too friendly with a waitress who Jessica did not consider pretty at all. She shoved the memory away and returned, stifling her irritation, to her quest for details. “Even better. He must like you.” “Ithink so,” Bella said slowly, and I was on the edge of my seat, my body rigidly still. “But it’s hard to tell. He’s always so cryptic.” I must not have been as transparently obvious and out of control as I’d thought. Still…observant as she was… How could she not realize that I was in love with her? I sifted through our conversation, almost surprised that I hadn’t said the words out loud. It had felt like that knowledge had been the subtext of every word between us. Wow. How do you sit there across from a male model and make conversation? “I don’t know how you’re brave enough to be alone with him,”Jessica said.
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